


I Walk Out in Stormy Weather

by lellabeth



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, boys who are bad at feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 01:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7956850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lellabeth/pseuds/lellabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of daily Phlint mini-fics.</p><p>  <i>“I want you to kiss me,” Phil says; quiet, desperate. Pleading.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	I Walk Out in Stormy Weather

**Author's Note:**

> hi! I decided it was easier to make a collection of daily Phlint mini-fics than to keep posting them as new stories. these will all be stand-alone.

The grass under his arm is dew-damp and short, the smell of earth all around him. His head is pillowed on his bicep as he stares across at Phil. The other boy is smiling his way through a dream, and Clint’s heart aches as he wonders what - _who -_ can make Phil smile like that when he’s not even awake.

Clint has loved Phil all his life. He can’t remember his life without Phil in it, having met at the age of four when Phil stopped a girl throwing sand in Clint’s eyes. Phil had offered him a sticky, chubby hand to help him out of the sandpit, and Clint had looked up into eyes the color of a summer morning. Over the years, his friendship for Phil had never wavered, and it hadn’t now - it had just changed into something else, something deeper. Now they were both 18, Clint had resolved to do something about it. But then Phil would smile just so, that dimple in his cheek only ever for Clint. He couldn’t risk losing that.

It doesn’t stop him shifting back into the sleep-warm line of Phil’s body, though. When Phil grunts slightly and turns into him, Clint’s throat burns. When Phil moves closer, leaving barely a breath between them, Clint’s eyes sting. When Phil’s dry lips press so, so softly at the back of Clint’s neck, Clint’s heart stops.

Phil kisses him again.

“Phil?” His heart hasn’t stopped at all - it’s right there in his voice; that cracked, aching thing. 

“Dreamed of you,” Phil rasps.

Clint can’t move. He can’t think or breathe or do anything at all as Phil slots his body against every contour and curve of Clint’s. Phil’s hand is splayed on Clint’s chest.

Clint creeps his fingers down slowly, fitting them to the spaces in between Phil’s. Phil’s hand twitches and then jolts, and then the entire line of his body goes as taut as the string of a bow.

“Clint?” he rasps again, this time not dream-worn or still clouded with sleep. This time it’s jagged, a little broken. 

Clint feels like he’s sinking deep down into the soil below him. He can taste the mud of it in his mouth, can barely speak around it. “Sorry, I… sorry.”

He struggles to disentangle his hand from Phil’s, but Phil clasps his fingers tight.

“Wait,” Phil demands, and Clint stills immediately. “Don’t go? Don’t- I don’t want you to go.”

Clint has to swallow three times before he can speak. “What do you want me to do, then?”

There is pressure on his shoulder, pushing him to lie flat on his back. The glow of sunshine brackets Phil’s face as he leans over Clint. He searches Clint’s eyes, and in that tiny second of time, a whole lifetime of longing seems to pass between them.

“I want you to kiss me,” Phil says; quiet, desperate. Pleading.

Clint takes a shaky breath and licks his lips. “I’ve only kissed one person before, Phil,” he says, and he doesn’t know _why_  he’s trying to talk Phil out of it, but-

Then Phil’s lips are on his. It’s hard and kind of sloppy, but it’s _Phil_  kissing him so it’s still good even with the rough edges, and tears push at Clint’s eyelids. The breeze blows cool across his skin, bringing the smell of bluebells with it; the shelter of Phil’s body chases the chill away. They kiss for minutes, until it’s nothing but soft and slow, and it’s perfect all the same. When they break apart, Clint can’t resist leaning up to kiss the swollen red of Phil’s mouth just once, and Phil can’t stop himself ducking his head to taste that smile tucked into the corner of Clint’s mouth.

“I’ve wanted to do that for years.”

As Phil leans down to kiss him again, Clint realizes that he should never have been worried about risking it all.

Not now he’s gained so much more.

**Author's Note:**

> daily Phlint is the creation of the ever-wonderful TwangCat.
> 
> come say hi on [tumblr](http://www.lellabeth.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/lellabeth). feel free to drop off any prompts!


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